Traditional philosophy postulated
the identity of mind and word, even an identical structure underlying mind,
word, and beingexpressed by the triple meaning of the fundamental concept
of logos. According to Bergson, traditional philosophy is based on a
faith in language, on a high opinion of its value. Rationalists do not view
language as a problem because they see no discrepancy between its terms and
concepts and the essential characteristics of being (universals). However, when
a culture is in a period of crisis, sceptics enter the scene who separate words,
thoughts, and objects. Thus, according to Gorgias, if being is, it is
incomprehensible and cannot be known by man.

Even if it were knowable, it
would be ineffable and incommunicable. According to Aenesidemus, only one sort
of sign denotes something that really exists: signs which we have perceived
in the past simultaneously with the things they denote. These are so‑called
commemorative or reminiscent signs. All others, which Aenesidemus terms "indicative"
are not true signs because they refer to the unknown; dogmatists are wrong when
they say that these signs refer to something existent.

However, the sceptics had to
reckon with such giants of philosophical thought as Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle,
who not only made great efforts to restore the faith in language but whose impact
on subsequent philosophical thought was far more decisive than that of the sceptical
school. Speaking through Socrates, Plato in his Cratylus vigorously opposes
the view, advocated by the Sophists, that language is based on convention. It
is obvious that Plato, like the later realists, accepts the assumption that
language and its categories faithfully reflect the structure of reality. All
the basic features of Aristotle's logic are conditioned by the characteristics
of the Greek language. Descartes carried on this traditiondespite the
scepticism inherent in his method of universal doubt. His thesis about innate
ideas implies the innateness and the universality of the language by which they
are expressed. According to Urban,

He (Descartes in a letter to Mersenne) believes in the inseparable character
of the relation of reason and language. As in all forms of knowledge, there
is always one ground form of knowledge, the human reason, so there must be
in all different languages one language, the universal, rational form of language.
The demand for a Mathesis universalis includes in it, for all parts
of knowledge which are not mathematical, the demand for a Lingua universalis.

All rationalists after Descartes,
especially Leibniz, worked toward the realization of this ideal. Even in our
time, when the imperfection of ordinary language and the differences between
its grammatical structure and the logical structure of thought are a truism,
we encounter the old realist idea in a new guise. According to this new realism,
ordinary language should be replaced by an ideal, artificial language whose
syntax will express not only all the characteristics of a universal logical
structure of thought, but the absolute structure of reality as well. This was
the conviction of the young Bertrand Russell when constructing the language
of his Principia Mathematica. However, Russell merely shifted
the application of traditional Platonic realism from ordinary language to an
artificial one.

There were several renewals
of Greek scepticism: first in the philosophy of late scholasticism, then in
the nominalist refutation of the real existence of universals. There are, it
seems, words which do not denote anything. Francis Bacon went even further in
his critique of language when he convincingly demonstrated the existence of
words which systematically deceive us. John Locke is the true father of modem
philosophy of language. The first among philosophers to fully grasp the problem
of language, Locke gave the first clear formulation of the thesis that language
as an instrument of expression participates in the process of cognition to such
an extent that this process cannot be properly studied without a previous study
of language .

As a rule, the entire school
of empiricism relied, with its one‑sided insistence on sensory experience
as the source of knowledge, on Locke's thesis about language, and, as time went
by, focused more and more on the analysis of language. After all, this was the
ideal way of building a philosophy which would postulate neither a material
substance and real essences nor abstract mental entities. Thus Berkeley vigorously
attacked the theory of abstract ideas, and Hume doubted the objective existence
of things and their necessary causal relationships, and the objective existence
of God and the soul; he even doubted the existence of our "Self' as a unique
entity. Only immediate experience and language remained beyond doubt. All abstractions
were interpreted as conventional linguistic signs, either empirical or logico‑mathematical.

In addition to these traditional
forms of rationalism and empiricism, two of their variants appear in the philosophy
of the late 18th and the early 19th centuries.

The transcendentalism of Kant
and his followers first appeared as a reaction to the scepticism of 18th century
British philosophy. Kant himself did not devote much attention to the problems
of language; we have to turn to Humboldt for significant ideas about language.
According to Humboldt's main thesis, which is analogous to Kant's insistence
on the role of the transcendental a priori forms of thought in the structuring
of sensory experience and the constitution of the world of objects, linguistic
forms are not only a vehicle by which knowledge is expressed, but also
the means of exploring the unknown. Thus by examining language one can learn
the most profound truths about the world. There is, in the transcendentalist
philosophical approach to language, one true and seminal thought, which Cassirer
elaborated on in detail: Language is a constitutive factor of our entire knowledge
about the world. However, the transcendentalist approach overemphasizes the
importance of language because its view of language is based on an idealist
theory of knowledge. Transcendental philosophy of language cannot accept a material
reality which exists independently of language and thought. "The limits
of my language are the limits of my world" says Urban. This is a way of
getting rid of the relative discrepancy between language and the world, which
is partly responsible for the problem of language. Once again, a unity of the
mind, language, and the world is established, reminiscent of the traditional
concept of logos. Only this time the theoretical framework is epistemological,
not ontological. Instead of a naive, totally unjustified assumption that language
reflects in itself the ideal structure of reality, we have a far more refined
thesis: The a priori mental forms contained in language structure our
experience, thus forming the world as the object of our knowledge (the only
world that can be the object of scientific and philosophical investigation).
However, some old misconceptions persisted. Instead of providing solutions,
this one‑sided hypostasis of identity at the expense of differences, of
synthesis at the expense of analysis, ignored a number of problems related to
language. It should be immediately pointed out that this idealization of language
does not jibe with the fact that language is capable of generating prejudices
and misconceptions, that it does not only unite people but also separates them.
That language can separate is corroborated time and again by its practical use.
After all, this particular feature of language is what makes its transformation
and improvement a necessity.

In order to explain this dimension
of language, philosophy of language had to pass through a stage when language
was understood as a dynamic, natural phenomenon, not as the immutable expression
of the totality of the mind. Language was conceived as a tool whereby man, in
his desire to dominate his world, adapts to his environment and controls it.
The basis for this view of language, this Schritt vom Geist zur Natur, was provided by Darwin's evolutionism. Man's dethroning had to lead to a
new view of language: language, like its creator, man, is merely a part of nature;
it emerged from similar yet less advanced forms of animal communication. Furthermore,
language, as a result of external forces and in accordance with natural laws,
exists and develops in time, and should be studied by the methods of the natural
sciences. This approach to language accounts for a variety of behaviorist, pragmatist
and instrumentalist theories of language.

One of the great merits of this
conception of language is that it created some basic preconditions which enabled
man to grasp a number of problems pertaining to language and to work on them
in a concrete way, utilizing the methods of the empirical sciences. But, once
again, one aspect of the method was overemphasized, and this led to an analysis
of language which was diametrically opposed to the idealist view. Only the external
physical dimension of language was taken into consideration. As language was
understood only as a form of objective, physical human behavior, unsurmountable
difficulties pertaining to the problem of meaning cropped up. Unable to talk
about the act of imagining, about conscious intentions, and all the other mental
processes which, although inseparable from language, do not fall into the realm
of objective, empirically perceptible behavior, all the behaviorists could do
was approach the problems of meaning with an impoverished theoretical apparatus,
suitable only for the study of mechanisms of stimulus and response and applicable
to rather undeveloped and primitive languages. In fact, the behaviorists were
trapped by an old misconception. By eliminating any relative independence of
mental processes, and by completely reducing them to overt verbal behavior,
they postulated, once again, the identity of language and thought, thereby overlooking
all the problems stemming from the fact that language and thought are inextricably
connected but not identical. And that is not all. Wishing to remain within
the domain of perceptible natural phenomena, the behaviorists started talking
about material reality in terms of natural environment, thus denying
it any structure or form. According to them, there is no other general structure
than that of verbal behavior. What we have here is a monism of language and
linguistic practiceas opposed to the early monism of the substance and
the later monism of the mind.

In contradistinction to all
of these types of conceptions of language, derived from traditional rationalism
and empiricism, transcendentalism, and behaviorism, humanist dialectics relies
on a very flexible conceptual apparatus which enables it to determine the relations
between language, the human psyche, and material reality. The general form by
which we could, on a rather abstract level, represent these relations is the
concept of the unity of opposites, or the concept of the relative identity of
three different classes of phenomena. Of course, these assertions would not
tell us anything if we did not analyze these relations.

Language and Thought

First we will discuss the relation
between language and man's mental life.

The first thing that can be said about this relation is that
language participates, as an instrument, in the objective social expression
of our subjective thoughts, feelings, desires, etc. The upshot of this fact
is that verbal behavior is one of the most important objective empirical sources
for the study of a subject's mental processes.

However, these facts about language
do not mean that all possible objective knowledge about the mental processes
of a subject is derived from his verbal utterances. There are forms of non‑verbal
behavior that are also accessible to the methods of empirical study. Forms of
non‑verbal behavior can serve as a basis for objective conclusionswith
a high probability of accuracyabout a subject's mental processes. In some
cases gestures, physiological reactions, actions can be more valuable than verbal
utterances as indicators of the processes of our conscious and subconscious
mind. For instance, Aglaya Yepanchina's actions, in Dostoyevski's The Idiot,
tell us more than her words about her love toward Prince Mishkin.

However, one sort of mental
process is more closely tied to language than all others, and verbal behavior
is the most reliable key to its understanding. What we have in mind are thought
processes. By observing someone's eye and mouth expressions, grimaces, gestures,
body movements, etc. we can learn about his emotionshis anger or jealousy,
for instance, but we get minimal information about the content of his thoughts.
By measuring the strength and the frequency of the bio‑electric waves
in the cortex, which probably constitute the physiological basis of thought,
we could learn something about the effort behind thinking, its intensity, and
the excitement involved in thinking, Such measuring devices could serve as lie‑detectors,
although there are several reasons why they would be unreliable. For example,
if something excites one very much because it is rare and unusual, it is not
unlikely that one might react very emotionally to a true statement during the
test. The inverse could be true as well. At any rate, direct, external manifestations
of thought and its accompanying processes tell us far too little about its content,
its qualitative aspect.

We can learn more about thought from practical actionswhen
man's thinking is followed by attempts to solve problems emerging in his relation
with nature and with other men. There is a great deal of truth in Dewey's thesis
that every thought represents a plan of action. The character of an action can
tell us what kind of thought planned it. Thus practical meaning is a dimension
of meaning. Yet this way of uncovering the content of thought processes can
be very arduous and complicated. There can be a considerable time difference
between a thought and the corresponding action. The realization of an action
can, owing to various factors, differ from the plan. What we have to do, instead
of looking at an isolated action which can include significant departures from
the plan, is to take into consideration the entire physical praxis of the given
subject. But again, highly abstract thought may be isolated from physical praxis.
Anyway, we can base our judgments about thought on praxis only if we follow
a special kind of reasoning by analogywhich has a limited cognitive value.

Language is by far the most
reliable indicator of thought. In fact, language presents the dialectical unity
of two sorts of processes. Language permanently associates strictly determined
material processes (sound production by the larynx, the creation of particular
ink or printing color patterns) with particular thought processes. These
two sorts of processes are structurally similar. What this means is that
there are invariant types and relations in the multitude of varying linguistic
signs. On the other hand, our highly varied mental life contains invariant dispositions
of imagining certain objects, of recognizing them when we see them, and of correctly
using the terms which denote them. There is such functional connection between
the two that the appearance of the sign normally provokes a corresponding
disposition and, conversely, the manifestation of a mental disposition (directly
provoked by other physical or mental events) tends to reproduce the sign or
at least to evoke an idea of it. One fact about language is essential: both
types of relations those included in signs and those included in the structure
of mental dispositionshave a social character. They are invariant
elements of thought and of language of all members of society, and not only
of isolated individuals. In this sense language is a medium connecting different
individual thought processes, and also it is the expression of both individual
and social thought.

Because of its external physical
aspect, language is an objective phenomenon which can be subject to scientific
investigation like any other natural phenomenon. Because the external realm
of meaning and the realm of thought are connected in a regular and constant
way, language can serve as an outstanding tool for the study of thought. In
this respect language has a significant advantage over other forms of praxis
because of the relative fixedness of its subjective and objective elements
and because of its considerable invariance, simplicity and regularity.
When, for instance, a person decides that a dogmatic interpretation of Marxism
discredits it, and that one should therefore fight against dogmatism, in praxis
the thought can be expressed in many ways. In many cases we would not even know
how to interpret the behavior of this person, not being informed of his decision.
However, if this person decides to verbalize his thoughts, all he needs is one
sentence. Although we cannot tell from one sentence whether the person uttering
it sincerely believes in what he is saying, in most cases there can hardly be
any doubt about the thought that he wished to express.

Contemporary empiricists, following
Hume, Wittgenstein and especially behaviorist psychology, have made great efforts
to prove that there are no such things as mental processes independent of linguistic
processes which express them. Thus as early as 1947 Ayer, following Ryle, wrote
that the process of thinking could not be distinguished from its expression.
However, Ayer allows the possibility of thoughts that cannot be expressed. Thus
he asserts, in a less radical way, that when a thought is expressed, thought
and expression constitute one single process. According to Ayer, thought is
not a process parallel to speech; nor is understanding a mental act following
words. But Ayer does not wish to be compared to those behaviorists who reduce
thought to certain movements of the larynx. Although thinking is frequently
accompanied by these movements, this connection is contingent. Therefore, saying
that someone's thinking is not accompanied by movements of his speech organs
is not a logical contradiction. In Ayer's view, a more flexibleand still
convincingway of undermining the myth of thought as a mental process is
by saying that in all those cases when people think without "saying certain
words aloud, they say them to themselves." According to Ayer, this inner
speech cannot be equated with any series of physical movements.

In fact, the novelty of this
seemingly audacious and revolutionary negation of the mental character of thought
lies in its idiosyncratic interpretation of terms. When we talk about language
or speech as the expression of thought, what we usually have in mind is the
external, physical side of language. We see language as a system of signs, and
speech as a physical process whereby sounds are produced. But language can be
understood in a much broader sense, as a system of signs which includes their
meaning. If we accept this broader definition of language, we can call someone's
speech not only fluent, rapid, and grammatically correct, but also clever, strong,
etc. In this case language is understood as a unity of thought and its expression.
Thus, when someone thinks and simultaneously expresses his thoughts in
oral and written signs, we will, if we accept the narrow definition of language,
describe this as two parallel processes. However, if we accept the broader definition
of language, we will see only one process.

However, there are two more
types of phenomena that behaviorists, both radical and moderate, find difficult
to account for.

The first type is represented
by thought which is not expressed by written or spoken linguistic signs. The
second type is represented by signs which are not accompanied by any interpretation
or understandingfor instance, signs produced by machines, parrots, the
feeble‑minded, persons talking in their sleep, infants. The behaviorist
conceptual apparatus is far too limited to make those distinctions. There is
such a chasm between a parrot's gibberish and a scientist's silent meditation
that it is quite unjustified to equate both phenomena with speech. If we wish
to refute the idealist thesis about the dominant role and the independent existence
of the mind and of mental processes, we needn't go as far as reducing thought
to speechor inner speech. What really contributes to the refutation of
mentalism is the mere fact that linguistic signs, or, at least, their representation,are a constitutive element of every articulate and defined thought process.

We shall apply the term "speech"
only to those cases where physical signs are actually being operated with, Because
linguistic signs are by definition material objects, speech is always a material
process. (In our terminology, the expression "inner speech", is
paradoxical). On the other hand, thought as an eminently mental process would
not be possible without the representations of linguistic signs and their structuring
and organizing role. There is no doubt that movements of the larynx do occur
during thought processes; they accompany the representation of the signs that
would be actually spoken if the person engaged in thought opened his mouth and
allowed the air to flow through his speech organs. The aim of this discussion
is to dissociate our position from both behaviorism and idealistic mentalism
and transcendentalism. The representation of signs is an inner mental process
which can be reduced neither to any external physical process nor to a material
operation with signs as objects. On the other hand, the thesisthat organized,
articulate thought requires linguistic signs (or, at least, the representation
of signs) convincingly invalidates the transcendentalist view of language as
a secondary expression of the mind which is superordinant to, and independent
of, language. Historically speaking, inner (silent) thought could have emerged
only as a superstructure to previously developed thought which had already been
expressed verbally. Only when man acquired the habit of thinking aloud and in
the context of social communication could he have started to, so to speak, suspend
his speech mechanism and substitute the spoken and written word by word representation.
These are the main phases of this development.

1. The pre‑symbolic phase
of language. The aim of speech is not providing information about objects, but
securing the satisfaction of biological needs. Examples of pre‑symbolic
language are cries by which early man expressed his feelings (the expressive
function of language is already developed), suggested certain attitudes and
practical operations (the directive function), achieved social cohesion (in
rituals or simple exchanges of wordswhose meaning was immaterial), etc.
Pre‑symbolic language has two stages: one is exemplified by the individual
making his first effort to communicate with others despite the fact that his
signs have not yet acquired social meaning. Animal sounds and infants' babble
are examples of this stage. The other stage is represented by speech which,
although cognitively meaningless, has expressive and prescriptive meaning.

2. Speech with all dimensions
of meaning, and capable of expressing thoughtfirst through concrete representations,
then through abstract concepts.

3. The possibility of replacing
the sign by its representation in the process of thought formation arises in
highly developed societies, when man is able not only to talk about material
objects but about speech as well, and when the links between linguistic signs
and the appropriate dispositions toward imagining objects have been firmly established.
This is how silent thought or, as the behaviorists would say, silent speech,
emerges.

4. However, the above‑mentioned
phases do not exhaust the dynamic relation between language and thought. Until
now, we have discussed language only as a social phenomenon and an instrument
of social communication. But the most advanced individuals transcend the social
framework of speech and thought. Their thought is richer and more complex because
it draws from a web of symbols which go beyond the generally known and accepted
symbols used in society or in specific fields. To be sure, these individuals
can, if they wish, establish a strictly defined relation between their thought,
their specific system of symbols, and social languageand thus achieve
social communicability. However, they do not have to, and sometimes they don't,
and this renders their thought objectively unintelligible. Hegel (especially
some portions of his Logic) is a case in point. Unfortunately, such exceptional
talents and geniuses are greatly outnumbered by those who also depart from normal
standards, but in a different directionconfused persons, eccentrics, and
psychopaths, who leave the framework of language because they are unable to
conform to it.

This discord between language
and thought can be approached in two waysdepending on how we define the
concept of language. If we decide to define language as a strictly. social phenomenon
we will say that only those signs can be termed "language" which function,
among other things, as a means of communication in a given community. But we
can also propose a definition of language which may include private languages.
If we accept the second definition we can still deny the existence of thought
that cannot be expressed verbally. However, owing to the many awkward consequences
of the second definition, we shall opt for the first. Thus our definition includes
the social aspect as one of the necessary elements of language. Therefore our
example of the discord between language and thought should be described as a
case in which thought of individuals transcends the limits of language.

Even if the individual does
not use any specific personal symbols and remains within the limits of social
(generally accepted) language, thought contains its own experiential associations,
and therefore cannot be totally reduced to language. Even when we establish,
beyond doubt, that language is a form of thoughta form of its constitution
and also of its practical expression, the fact remains that language, like every
other form, is invariability within variability, and identity in a large
number of individual cases that differ from person to person, from moment to
moment.

There is always something unique
in the thought of an individual. When different persons think about Father,
Mother, Country, Philosophy, Friendship, their respective thoughts are at least
a shade different: invariant elements of meaning, defined by identical terms,
are abstracted from different experiences and cannot be completely separated
from these experiences. We all have different parents, we have read different
books, participated in different conversations; we have different friends and
have experienced friendship under different circumstances. Finally, the thought
of an individual in different periods of his life distills his life experience,
is concretized by different perceptions, colored by different emotional tones,
and influenced by different desires and practical purposes.

Language glosses over many of
these differences, and executes so to speak, a cruel but useful unification.
This has unfortunate consequences for poetry. In its desire to express the fullness
of individual existence, poetry incessantly struggles with the poverty of language.
There are thousands of ways to hate or love, yet just a few puny words to
express these feelings. Something unique, unrepeatable has to be expressed by
old, repeatable words. This is why poets seek new metaphors, forge new words,
add new shades of meaning to old words, create new, seemingly meaningless, word
combinations. And poets do all this, using their specific methods, in order
to convey a specific content to a small group of people with a particular psychological
constitution. This is how poetic language gradually ceases to be clear and universally
intelligible.

The situation is different in
science. Science, especially in the phase of theoretical investigation (and
to a lesser degree in the phase of practical application) seeks general facts
and structures. The language of science, if it is to grasp these facts as accurately
and objectively as possible, should strive for maximal simplicity. Poetic metaphors
can make a scientific text more interesting and more readable, but they will
also diminish its clarity and render it vague. The intellectual content expressed
in a mathematical formula by, say, a Planck or a Schroedinger is intelligible
for the scientist who works in the field and knows the technical language used
in it. All elements of perception (which is by definition one‑sided),
of imagination, emotion, volition, in other words, everything pertaining to
the subjective, experiential connotation of symbols has to be discarded as meaningless
in this process of conveying scientific thought through language. The required
uniformity of meaning is a liminal concept even in sciences, and especially
in the empirical sciences. Selection of a research programme, interpretation
of data, choice of hypotheses, decision to stop further testing are phases of
research which are not sufficiently regulated by methodological rules and are
open to the impact of preceding experiences, cultural biases, interests and
emotions. In terms of categories this feature of scientific language could be
defined as a divergence of content from the established order of actual life.
In other words, there is a divergence between thought, which is concrete, dynamic,
and enmeshed in experienceand static linguistic forms and its underlying
logic. Insofar as this is true, the concept of generality in science should
be understood as concrete generality.

What we have had in mind in
our discussion of thought so far was discursive, carefully articulated logical
thought. Non‑discursive, intuitive thought transcends the framework of
language even more than discursive thought, and in a different way. This is
why philosophers who consider contemplation and intuition the only trustworthy
sources of knowledge remain dissatisfied with language. Already in Plato's Seventh
Epistle, where one finds none of that unlimited confidence in language prominent
in Cratylus, we read that no intelligent man will ever be so excessively
audacious to put in language the things his mind has contemplated. Because it
uses physical signs to represent meaning, language is for Plato merely the first
step to knowledge. As long as thought remains in the sphere of "existence",
it can only strive to express pure being, but can never attain it. This is why
language can never express the content of purely philosophical knowledge.

This point of view is shared
by the neoplatonists and by many later mystics. One of its representatives in
modern philosophy is, naturally, Bergson; yet his is a moderate variant. According
to Bergson, language is by nature dead and unable to express the dynamics of
reality. However, language can lead us to a point where we will be able to transcend
it and enter the realm of the ineffable.

It should be pointed out that
intuitive thought is still thought. Despite the fact that language is unable
to express it adequately, intuitive thought can lead great thinkers to significant
insights. However, two claims can be disputed: first, that intuitive thought
is free and independent of any system of symbols; second, that it produces knowledge
and leads to objective truth. There is no doubt that intuitive thought relies
on some non‑linguistic symbols (e.g. visual symbols, images): this is
what gives it an internal structure. The so‑called contemplation of oriental
mystics most likely isn't thought at all but, rather, a vague, diffuse state
of a consciousness oblivious to all events around it. In any case, purely intuitive
thought falls short of knowledge. Insights gained by intuitive thought can at
best be used as fertile hypotheses in a real process of cognitionwhich
would include logical discursive thought and empirical verification.

Our analysis of the relation
between language and thought clearly shows why they cannot be equated. First
of all, some processes in which signs are used are not consciously determined
or rationally understood. These processes can be triggered by conditional reflexes,
and by mechanisms (e.g. machines). According to purely objective, behavioral
criteria, what these machines operate with is language. But language is here
divorced from thought and, naturally, this discrepancy creates serious problems.
When we encounter a (non‑human) organism which correctly utilizes linguistic
signs, we shall hardly accept that it thinks what it says or that it thinks
at all.

On the other hand, we have cases
where thought processes seem to occur without speech. In normal discursive thought
the connection between language and thought is not severed since the representations
of linguistic signs participate in the thought structuring process. Yet thought
can transcend language in many ways. Sometimes the discrepancy between thought
and language is such that we get instances of more or less total unintelligibility.
In some cases interpretation is possible only if we manage to identify the symbols
used by the subject and translate them into a socially communicable code. But
even when persons wishing to communicate among each other use the same set of
generally accepted symbols, it will be possible to interpret what they are saying
only if the different specific conditions under which their thought has developed
are taken into consideration. These conditions determine the specific experiential
connotations of shared symbols.

Our analysis of language and
thought implies that experience transcends the limits of language even more
so than thought. In other words our entire psychic fife is reducible to language
even to a lesser degree than thought. Nevertheless, the fact remains that language
is a structure, a form through which our entire psychic life is constituted.
(For example, unconscious instincts and complexes are usually connected
to certain symbols.) Thought, and psychic life in general, reflect objective
practical reality only insofar as they are structured by language. This
is what Marx means when he says that language is the direct reality of thought.
We could, following this line of thought, define other forms of humanpraxis
as the indirect reality of thought. Another fragment about language, pertinent
in this context, comes from The German Ideology:

Language is as old as consciousness, language is practical consciousness
that exists also for other men, and for that reason alone exists for me personally
as well; language, like consciousness, only arises from the need, the necessity,
of intercourse with other men.